Beside the Pond, Under Bamboo
A path winds past brambleweave fence and simple home,
jade-green: ten acres of idle dwelling, a pond gracing half.
After eating my fill and dozing refreshed at the window,
I wander off under the trees, alone, my feet light as air,
for water clarifies the spirit no less than a perfect friend,
and bamboo is a master that frees the mind to emptiness.
Why worry about that world of people, why plague mind
and ruin eyes in search of a kindred spirit here or there?
Po Chü-i
(translated by David Hinton)
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